WANTED: Love of my Life

06. If my sister is a psychic, I'll strangle her

We were assembled in front of the school in as orderly a manner as it was possible for a group of fourteen-year-old kids to be. The sun was already setting behind the golden gate bridge. Some students had complained about how late the trip was, pointing out that they had better things to do in the evening, until Miss Ellis had pointed out that the shelter was for homeless people to have dinner and to sleep in, and that they, like normal people, didn't do that in the morning.

The bus that was to take us to our destination had already arrived, but Miss Ellis was not ready to depart just yet. She still had a few words to say, and unlike with many other teachers, I tried to listen.

“Now you pay attention to what I'm saying,” she demanded, a bony finger raised upwards. “The people you are going to meet will be a potpourri of different types. On the one hand, some will be quite normal. On the other, some will stink like public latrines, some won't say a word no matter what you do or say. Some will shout derogatory words at you which most of you have probably never heard in your life. In the latter case, I'm sure you can apply to Jennifer for explanations.”

Jen grinned, quite flattered by the compliment.

“But I want you to remember one thing,” Miss Ellis added, her face suddenly deadly serious. “Most of those people are only broken shells of their former selves, not because they have broken, but because they have been broken. No matter their unfortunate situation, they deserve to be treated as human beings. The world can be a very cruel place.” The corners of her mouth twitched in a rare smile. “You're still in school, so you aught to know that much. Show a little compassion, or at least pretend to. Let's go!”

We climbed aboard the bus and it started, slowly. At least, it wasn't quite as slow as the cable carts. For a while, we only saw the beige, white and blue-painted family homes, the shiny office buildings and the sky-scratching skyscrapers that we were used to. I got bored and took a book out of my backpack. Luckily, we had set out from school, not from home, so I had been able to get a book out of my secret locker-library. Not the one about Lord Ellard and the mysterious beauty this time. I had finished that one during school yesterday.

This one was about another beauty, and a mysterious bad-boy and player from Chicago. It turned out he was into drug trafficking. And it turned out he had fallen madly in love with her, and they lived happily ever after – without taking drugs.

The story was pretty engrossing. When I looked up again, I noticed that the scenery had begun to change. Slowly, unpainted brick and concrete walls appeared more often. The windows of the houses became smaller and dirtier. The men on the street began to look ragged, while the women started to look increasingly like Jen.

I put my book away and stared out of the window. This was much better than a book – this was live. In spite of my interest, a feeling of apprehension began to grow in my chest. I had no doubt that other than in my math or biology classes, on this trip I would actually learn something worthwhile. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help thinking that it might have been smarter to listen to my parents and stay at home.

“Cool, eh?”

Jen dropped into the seat beside me.

“Um, yea,” I managed to say. “Very.”

“Ange, don't tell me you're chicken? You are, aren't you?”

“Psst!”

“Hey, everybody!” Jen shouted. “Ange is shitting her pants! Ange is...”

I stamped on her foot as hard as I could. “One more word,” I hissed, “and I'll grab one of those fancy piercings of yours and rip off whatever is attached to it. What would you prefer? An ear? A nose?”